


who are you, what have you sacrificed?

by Frenchibi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, College AU, Depression, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frenchibi/pseuds/Frenchibi
Summary: Hajime wonders when it started. What he’d missed.If I’d listened to him more. If I’d paid more attention. Looked properly.If, if, if.





	who are you, what have you sacrificed?

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this, and no explanation except that I write what I feel, for better or worse.  
> Sorry for the pain.

It’s hard to think past the throbbing.

He’s had this headache for hours now, and he knows he should sleep, but he can’t. He won’t.

There’s construction going on outside – he might’ve passed the site when he arrived, he doesn’t quite remember. It didn’t matter, at the time. Now the sounds are just dull, and they’re not helping the sting behind his eyes.

It hasn’t even been that long since he’s slept. He knows, because he regrets sleeping, then.

_If I’d thought to call, first. If I hadn’t been so stubborn-_

A little over 24 hours, maybe.

Even then it’d only been about three hours of sleep, though. Hajime knows why he’s tired. He knows where the headache is coming from.

And then, of course, there’s the beeping of the monitor. He wishes he could hate it, the sharp sound that just won’t seem to fade into the background. But for now it’s what he clings to.

_Beep, beep, beep, beep._

Alive, alive, alive, alive.

He doesn’t look it.

Hajime wonders when it started. What he’d missed.

_If I’d listened to him more. If I’d paid more attention. Looked properly._

If, if, if.

His hand moves to brush over Tooru’s fingers, limp against the mattress. Thin. Bony. His wrist is so thin, too, almost like a child’s. He’s always been lithe, but this is- this is different.

God, he’s so pale.

Even now, when he’s been sleeping for almost a day ( _unconscious_ , a voice in his head whispers, _not sleeping_ ), he looks… bad.

Maybe it’s all the white around him, this room, the sheets - maybe it’s the cables coming off him, feeding into the machine to his right. Maybe it’s Hajime’s fear, too, that he’s seeing. Neglect. _How did I not notice?_

When Tooru started sweating, one of the nurses had washed his face with a cloth, and all the makeup had come off. Hajime had gasped when he saw the deep, dark circles under his eyes, and how hollow his cheeks seemed.. Empty.

_How long have you been hiding from me?_

He tries to remember the last time he actually saw Tooru eat.

It’s not something you think about, really – they’d both been busy, always running, goodbyes and hellos said hastily at the door, food tucked under their arms-

Or maybe just his.

When he got the call, he’d felt like someone had ripped the ground from under his feet.

“Iwaizumi Hajime? We’re calling on behalf of Oikawa Tooru; you’re his emergency contact-”

Collapsed.

Frail.

_How did I miss this?_

He remembers, dimly, Tooru’s smile (did he look tired? They were always tired, why would he have thought it was weird, how could he have noticed-). “Oh, don’t worry, Iwa-chan. I just forgot!”

_You forgot to eat? Idiot, come here, I made dinner._

He’s pretty sure Tooru ate, that day.

_You were also pretty sure that you knew everything about him. Hypocrite._

Tooru’s eyes are moving behind his eyelids, and he’s sweating again. Fever dream, probably.  
Hajime hesitates – he knows they’ll throw him out, he shouldn’t even be here – but then he presses the call button, summons the nurse.

Anything for Tooru.

“Oh,” she says, when she steps through the door not two minutes later. “You haven’t gone home yet.”

She knows him by now, must recognize his face.

Or maybe it’s just his posture. She must see countless people like him.

“I think he’s got a fever again,” he says, ignoring her question.

She glances at Tooru, whose lips have parted now. He’s murmuring something, no louder than a whisper.

Weak. Frail.

_How could it come to this? I was supposed to take care of you._

_I thought I had._

_I thought I could._

He bites his lip. Fights his heavy eyelids, fights the tears.

“Maybe you should go home and rest, Iwaizumi-san,” the nurse says, wetting a cloth at the sink in the corner. She doesn’t mention visiting hours. He thanks her silently.

“I need to be here when he wakes up,” Hajime says.

“…I think seeing you this tired would only make him feel guilty,” she says, looking up to meet his gaze. “And guilt makes people close off. We’re going to have to ask him some tough questions when he wakes.”

Hajime knows this. He knows. He has questions, too.

But they’re not as important as seeing Tooru open his eyes.

He’s squeezing Tooru’s hand now, probably tighter than he should.

There’s guilt, fear, helpless worry.

None of these feelings are useful to anyone.

Tooru moans softly, turning his head, and his fingers clench around Hajime’s.

“I won’t leave him,” Hajime whispers, eyes fixed on his face. “I won’t.”

 

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he opens his eyes.

He’s still at the hospital, still in the same uncomfortable plastic chair. Still clutching Tooru’s hand in his.

Must have fallen asleep. Slowly, he straightens up. Remembers.

The headache is back.

He glances at the door, then over to the window. Morning again. Then, his eyes fall on Tooru.

Who is looking back at him.

“Oh,” Hajime says, and then he’s crying.

Tooru’s face is impassive, and he watches the tears slide down Hajime’s face, pooling at his chin before dripping into his lap. Hajime’s fingers clench over Tooru’s hand. He shows no signs of feeling it.

“Tooru,” he whispers. Screw “Oikawa.” Screw this distance they’ve but between each other. Screw all of it.

Tooru blinks, and then Hajime sees it. The tiniest, miniscule twitch. The urge to bite his lip, barely suppressed.

 _Christ, why do you keep_ hiding?

There are so many things he wants to say, so many questions that desperately need answers. _What happened? How long has this been going on? Are you hurt? Talk to me, talk to me-_

What comes out is the worst of them. In a whisper, barely a sound.

“...why don’t you trust me?”

_Why won’t you let me in? What happened, to make you doubt me so much? Tell me how to fix this, please, please-_

Tooru shakes his head.

Hajime straightens up, and the tears stop. “...that’s it?”

And now there’s anger, flaring up, covering everything.

“I’ve been waiting for days. For _days,_ Oikawa. I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten. I came as soon as they called. I want answers now. I want you to explain this to me.”

Tooru is already shrinking back, lip quivering, and Hajime knows his voice is getting too loud, he should stop, he has to _stop-_

“Do you have any idea how it feels-”

And his voice dies. Because now, Tooru is the one who’s crying.

_Fuck._

Who is he, to ask a question like that, when Tooru is the one in this hospital bed?

Tooru’s mask is slipping, breaking.

“I’m s-sorry,” he gasps, and then he’s sitting up, reaching for him, “I-Iwa-chan, I’m-”

Hajime’s arms find their way around him of their own volition, inevitable - a tangible apology that’s worth more than any words he could say, and he prays Tooru understands.

(He’s so _small,_ how did that happen, when did that happen? How did Hajime not realize-)

He finds words, then, because this feels wrong, he should be Tooru’s pillar, his support; “No, don’t- don’t apologize, I shouldn’t have yelled, I-”

“B-but you’re right,” Tooru says, fingers clenching over the front of his shirt, “you’re right, y-you’re right, you deserve an answer...”

Hajime holds him close, knows that his heart is hammering against his chest like crazy, wants to fix this, has to make it right. “You don't have to- look, I'll- I'll get the nurse, they'll make sure you're okay, so- so we can go home-”

“No,” Tooru cuts in, “no, it’s- I know how I got here, I- you sh-should know-”

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have pushed, it’s- you’re okay, that’s what matters-”

“No, I- I’m not okay. I’m broken,” Tooru whispers, and his voice gets twisted and tiny, clenching like a fist over Hajime’s heart. And then he tells him, truth spilling from his lips like the tears from his eyes.

Tells him about the small ways he’s been hating himself, the tiny truths that add up into how he got here, hopeless and lost.

About turning up the shower just a little too high, to feel the hot water burn his skin. About never feeling _clean._

About ignoring the sting of an empty stomach until he couldn’t feel it anymore. About staring at a plate of food until tears streamed down his face, _I can’t eat this, I can’t, I can’t-_

About running too fast, practicing too long, about pushing, pushing, needing to do more than he could-

About falling.

About standing in front of the mirror, watching himself cry. _Pathetic. Weak. Insignificant and tiny._

Tooru talks, interrupted by sobs, but at least he’s not trying to pull away. He’s not trying to fight anymore. It’s all Hajime can do to hold on, because the words he’s saying are brutal, unforgiving. _I hate myself. I deserve this._

“...and _you_ ,” Tooru whispers, still clutching at his shirt, “I- I don’t understand how… why you’re still w-with me… a-all I do is lie-”

His voice breaks, and he takes several heavy breaths before he finds words again. “I pretend. I-I’ve been lying to you this entire time, f-for years, a-and you don’t deserve” - another hitch, a fresh wave of tears - “you s-said it yourself, I m-made you worry o-over something so s-stupid, I never- I never w-wanted this, all I- I was just- You should go, Iwa-chan, you d-don’t deserve-”

“That’s enough,” Hajime says, then, because it’s all he can take, and he’s shaking just as hard as Tooru is,. “Oikawa, you’re my best friend-”

“ _See_? Why? Wh-what good am I to you? All I e-ever do is make you worry and k-keep you up late a-and _look,_ y-you deserve so much m-more than that-”

“Oikawa, shut up!”

It comes out harsher than he intends, and the effect is immediate. Drastic. Tooru claps his mouth shut, curling in on himself. Small. Afraid.

His thoughts are so clear in that moment, it’s almost as if Hajime can hear them.

_This is it, I’ve done it now-_

“I need you to listen to me now, okay? And really listen. All- all these things you just told me. Why… why did you never say anything?”

And he can’t conceal the hurt in his tone, can’t get rid of the doubts that are rapidly building in his chest. Tooru stiffens, still can’t look up at him, but the tension is palpable.

“When- when I got that call, I-”

He has to swallow, and start over. Tooru’s shoulders are shaking.

“When they told me you’d collapsed, I was _terrified._ And now... you’re telling me all these things, these things that led up to that, and I- I didn’t know a single thing about you, did I? S-somewhere along the way, I lost you. And- and if you hadn’t been f-found, you might be-”

He exhales, raspy, loud. There are tears prickling behind his eyelids, and he forces them shut.

“Just- I don’t understand what changed,” he whispers. “You used to- you’d always let me help. Did- did you think I couldn’t, anymore? Did I… do something? Tooru, I need you to tell me, so I can fix this. I can’t- I can’t lose you. It’s s-selfish but... I need you to stay alive, I need you to be okay, I-”

“I know,” Tooru says, and he lets out a laugh so bitter that it chills Hajime to the bone. “I know I’m not- not supposed to break. I don’t want you to worry. I have to be better, stronger-”

“ _No,_ ” Hajime says, grip tightening on Tooru’s arm. “No, that’s not- god, can’t you see that you already are? You’re enough. You’ve always been enough. And of course you’re allowed to break. Just- let me _help_ you. Let me catch you.”

Tooru sobs, and the sound is so completely wrecked that Hajime actually pulls back, startled and afraid.

“You don’t even know,” Tooru whispers. “You don’t know h-how much it hurts to hear you say that, Hajime.”

_Hajime._

“What do you-”

“How you haven’t noticed, I don’t know. Everyone knows, everyone but you, and I’m too scared to tell you. So- so I swallow it, I keep it to myself, I lie, I _lie-_ ”

He’s kneading his fingers in his lap, much too tightly, a nervous habit - Hajime can’t bear to watch, he reaches out on instinct, twists his own fingers between Tooru’s.

“...about what?”

Tooru barks out another humorless laugh, and finally, he’s looking up and meeting Hajime’s gaze. His tears have stopped.

“Might as well say it now, right? It’s all broken, anyway.”

Hajime shakes his head, determined to at least prove him wrong here, “nothing’s broken, what are you-”

“I’m in love with you,” Tooru says, raising his voice to cut him off. “I’m fucking- I’m in love with you, okay? I’m stupidly, unforgivingly, completely and utterly in love with you.”

There’s something roaring in Hajime’s ears, drowning out all other sound. Tooru’s voice is the only thing that filters through.

“All I'm doing is making your life miserable - I’m- I’m depressed, unstable, I- everything would be better if I was gone, but I'm a coward and I can't-”

He stops, exhaling in a harsh sigh. “Look, I can't let you go, you're all I have, but you'll never want me like that, so- so I lie, I pretend I don't- that you're not-”

“Stop,” Hajime says, finding his voice, and he’s startled at the pain that it carries, sharp and real. But Tooru shakes his head, tightens his grip.

“It’s- god, if you knew how many times I’ve cried over-” he stops, runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t- you weren’t supposed to know. I just- I wanted everything to stay the same, y-you to never leave me, just- i-it would’ve been fine, really, but I couldn’t d-do it anymore, I-”

“Oikawa,” Hajime interrupts, because it sounds like- “Is this- are you here because- because of me?”

Tooru’s eyes are wide, like he can see the immense guilt that’s crashing down over Hajime’s shoulders with every second, _because of me, because of_ me-

“No!” he says, louder now, “no- no, it’s not- you didn’t-”

All of this is too much, it’s too heavy, too overwhelming - Hajime can’t seem to let go of Tooru’s hands, fingers clenching around them as thoughts race through his head.

_All this time-_

_Because of me-_

_All this suffering, all the pain and the doubt and-_

He lets out a laugh, short and harsh, and then there are tears again - more than before, streaming down his face, _how stupid, oh god, all this time, if I had known-_

And really, everything makes sense now, in the most twisted way.

“Iwa-chan, it’s not because of you,” Tooru is saying, breathless and desperate, “I’m- I’m broken, okay, it’s- it’s everything, everything’s heavy and hard and I couldn’t s-sleep or eat a-and you were always t-there, you were perfect, you _are_ , you-”

“Stop,” Hajime says again, “Oikawa, stop, just-” He takes a deep breath, catches his gaze. “Let- let me think for a second, okay, just-”

“I know I’ve lied before but I swear- nothing, _nothing_ is your fault, Iwa-chan, you h-have to know that, i-it’s not your fault that I have these s-stupid feelings, I never- I n-never should have s-said it, I’m breaking e-everything-”

He’s sobbing now, but Hajime can’t let this stand, not like this, not when there’s so much left to say, he needs to sort through this before he can find the right words, needs air, needs to _think-_

“I’m sorry,” Tooru says, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-”

And from the mess of Hajime’s thoughts, twisted and tangled and helpless, there’s only one thing he can say, the most important thing, they can figure everything out later, everything that’s buzzing, buzzing in his brain, the most important thing is-

“I love you, too.”

Tooru looks up, all tear tracks and blotchy nose and _devastatingly beautiful_.

“...what?”

“...yeah, I-” he cuts himself off, a small, helpless laugh bubbling out of his throat. “I- I’ve always- y-you were always-”

He can see all the questions that are threatening to gush out of Tooru like a wave, _how, why, there’s no way- is this some kind of game, how can you even say that, Iwa-chan, that’s so cruel, I never thought you’d be so cruel-_

But Tooru doesn’t say a word. Slowly, ever so slowly, his lips part and he exhales, eyes fixed on Hajime’s, watching, searching for the trick, the lie.

Hajime looks back, and he can’t help the way his gaze softens. He’s always been helpless around Tooru, helpless and hopeless and so, so far gone for him.

He squeezes Tooru’s hand, just so. _How could we both be so blind?_

But maybe that doesn’t matter anymore.

“Oh,” Tooru breathes - and Hajime sees it, then; clear as day, sharp like a blade. A glimpse of the Tooru he knows - the one he’s been drawn to for years and years and years - like a light somewhere behind his eyes.

_Hope._

He’s never felt relief so vivid. In that moment, it doesn’t matter that there’s still an IV tube in Tooru’s arm and electrodes stuck to his chest - it doesn’t matter that they still have worlds of ground to cover and countless uncomfortable conversations ahead of them. None of it matters, because Tooru is squeezing his hand now, hard, and there’s a whole host of new emotions flooding his expression all at once: disbelief, incredulity, a prick of fear and an endless stream of relief of his own that he can’t seem to hold back, not for all the doubt in the world.

He knows it’s true. He sees it.

Hajime reaches out, on impulse, and brushes a hand through Tooru’s hair. It’s not soft now, though he knows it usually is, when he hasn’t been in hospital for over 24 hours. Usually he’d make a fuss about it, but now it doesn’t seem to matter, either.

He brings his hand down to cup Tooru’s cheek, warmth swelling in his chest when Tooru leans into the touch, eyes soft, trusting.

There’s still countless questions Hajime needs answers to, and they’re growing louder, incessant in his brain. He forces them back, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Tooru’s forehead.

Tooru seems to melt beneath him, letting out a sigh that Hajime feels in his bones.

“The nurse,” Hajime whispers against his skin. “...okay? So I can take you home.”

Slowly, tentatively, Tooru nods, and Hajime pulls back. He manages a smile, feeling his exhaustion catching up to him as the adrenaline wears off. Tooru is tired, too, and he knows what’s coming next won’t be easy. He might not even get to leave, not right away - but it’s okay.

Hajime gives his hand another squeeze before he dutifully lifts himself off the edge of Tooru’s bed and back into the plastic chair.

He wants to believe it will be okay - Tooru’s smile is genuine now, gentle and relieved, but he doesn’t know how long it will last. It’ll take time to convince Tooru to trust him with all the self-doubt and fear he’s been hiding for so long, but-

Hajime wants to try. For both of them.

There’s nothing he’d rather be fighting for.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> If you have a moment, consider leaving me a comment? It's the only feedback I get, after all, and the only incentive to keep posting.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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